madimpossibledreamer

font decided to randomly change. also then I messed something up in fixing it, so now I have to recopy it over and fix it line by line I guess because it's being a pain. yare yare

Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Torchwood crossover
Summary: Would you look at that, more stuff from 2012. This one is a follow-up to a Choose Your Own Adventure Halloween adventure I may or may not finish eventually where Xander ends up with Captain Xan in his head. This one I actually had some episode tags for how things changed through the series. The two for this one are during Lie to Me and The Dark Age. Biggest issue for this one is that tense changes rapidly. You have been warned. (Yeah, I could probably fix it. Might if I feel like it, but I definitely don't now.)
I don't think it's warning-worthy but there is a drunk Angel contemplating drinking Xander's blood.
Word Count: 1686
Rating: Teen

During Lie to Me

          “Pulling disappearing acts is a popular activity in Sunnydale. Along with trying to dance at the Bronze and hanging out in graveyards, but that one’s an absolute killer.”
          “Xander!” Willow hissed, elbowing him. He managed a pained smile. She pulled him aside. “What’s the matter with you? You can’t talk about this stuff! This is non-talky stuff! This is way non-talky stuff!”
          Xander shivered, crossing his arms and staring at a spot across the room from them fixedly, looking...grumpy. Or maybe pouty. “I know, Wils, I just...” A heavy sigh. “I’m feeling weird. Majorly weird. Weird as in chocolate-and-Star Trek can’t fix it weird.” His eyes widened slightly, but by the time she’d turned around she only saw Cordy sitting at a table, talking to her cronies, and that wasn’t where he’d been staring at.
          “That’s...Xander, is there anything I can do?”
          A second, then he breathed in deeply, straightening, smiling at her like suddenly everything was fixed. It couldn’t have been, not with that level of seriousness, but... “You’re already doing it, Wils. Have I mentioned you’re my bestest friend ever?”

          A couple root beers later, he’d noticed that no one was paying attention to him anymore. It was probably best that he take a breath of fresh air. If he got cornered by vamps, his lungs were still as good as ever.
          He hadn’t gone before before he was spun and pinned against a wall. The slight smile on his face faded as he realized who was doing the pinning, and swallowed a terrifying innuendo with some measure of hysteria.
          Angel was leaning in towards his neck.
          “Buff! Bad Deadboy! Going for the neck bad!”
          The vampire chuckled darkly, nibbling at the neck a little with blunt human teeth. He stunk of alcohol.
          Please let this all just be a nightmare.
          “You smell so...tempting.” The voice was slurred. Drunk scary vampire? Instantly he flashed back to memories of different people, lost in the alcohol draining their lives...memories that were never his, oh never please anything but...
          Fear thrilled through him. Angel sobbed. “Buffy...what does she see in that human...she should be mine.” This...this was terrifying. Angel, broody Batman Angel, had gone from despairing, lost, to scary angry serial killer possessive in the space of five seconds. Was this what Angelus was, Angel stripped of his inhibitions?
          (Like alcohol commonly did...)
          “But you smell so...you never stopped. Better than her. I mean, she’s amazing but...just a little nibble couldn’t hurt...” Angel was mumbling into his collarbone. Part of him said he shouldn’t do anything.
          The sensible part won.
          He shoved, just slightly, enough that he could wind up and deliver a punch that...had Angel staggering, oddly enough. Was he just weaker drunk? Because if so, well, that was something right? Meant he might actually be able to protect himself against a seriously crazy vampire.
          He ignored the treacherous part of his mind that said if it had been Spike he wouldn’t have done anything. “What are you thinking?” he yelled. Angel just stood there, swaying, blinking. He was really fargone, huh?
          “You have a problem, you go talk to Buffy about it. Or you deal with it on your own. You don’t come to me and try to gnaw my neck off.” He lifted a warning finger, trying to stop it from shaking. “We are enemies. En-em-ies. I hate you, you hate me, we’re happy enemies. None of this pawing stuff.”
          Angel blinked a little more, then something in his long-dead brain finally made the connection between the words he’d heard and their meanings. He nodded, determined. A surprisingly heartfelt “Thank you, Xander,” floated behind him as he disappeared into the night.
          Suddenly, Xander’s legs couldn’t support him anymore. He slid down the wall, shaking.

“Your secret identity is the worst-kept secret around here, Buff.”

          Angel stared at Xander for a moment. There was something he was supposed to be remembering, but he wasn’t sure what. It was sort of odd that the boy was wearing a sweater, today of all days, even though Willow had confided that he’d had the beginnings of a cold and didn’t want it to get worse. He didn’t understand why he was so sure it was a lie, though.

          “We have to stop meeting like this,” he stated quietly, staring at Spike, who leered.
          “I dunno, pet. I’m enjoying this.” Xander felt a deep-seated unease build up within him-the fact that he’d just realized he was too was majorly wiggy.

The Dark Age

          He’d gotten the Watcher’s Diaries. Now he just needed to find Spike, or William the Bloody or William Pratt as he was more likely to be labeled, and...
          “Xander,” Giles’ voice called out, and he froze completely.
          How was he going to explain this? He needed to understand, was working himself into a frenzy not knowing what was wrong with him, why he...why he had this obsession. His hands started shaking, and he quickly had to put down the book on the table in front of him to avoid dropping the heavy tome on his toes.
          He should turn. Honestly, realistically, he should. He should turn to the librarian and with a bright smile explain that he was curious. About something. Anything but Spike. Maybe he wanted to understand Watchers, why they were all stuffy British people (or if that was even true). Maybe...anything. Light comment, happy smile, easy to dodge this.
          Except he couldn’t. He was frozen, trembling, and trying not to cry.
          “I’ve noticed your obsession with Spike. I was waiting and hoping it would pass, but apparently not. Now I think it’s time that you explained a few things.” This was not the Giles they’d known. This was the Ripper that Ethan had snarled at that fateful night.
          He didn’t realize what was happening before his legs gave out, and suddenly someone was preventing him from hitting his head on the floor. “Good Lord, Xander.” He was being maneuvered into a chair and that was fine, everything was okay, because he really, really didn’t want to think right now. If someone was taking care of him, he was left with no choices to make, nothing to get wrong, complete and total absolution from responsibility.
          “Are you all right, Xander?” A very serious Giles was kneeling in front of him, he thought, but his awareness of the world had faded to a fuzzy grey. If he tried hard, he could come back to the point that everything was recognizable, but he didn’t want to try at all. Too much effort.
          He wasn’t going to admit to Giles of all people that he hadn’t been eating properly for a while. Slept even less. He was haunted by nightmares that weren’t even his, a home-and-lovesickness that belonged to someone else. His obsession had taken over his every waking moment and he was too weak and stupid to give it up. He couldn’t escape.
          He gathered together the energy to speak. “I...I’m o-okay, I think. Though I could do with some tea.” At what he guessed was a shocked and slightly suspicious look from Giles, he added, “I got a taste for it during Halloween, G-man, what can I say?”
          The presence disappeared. Making and drinking tea signified to the Englishman that even if the world was falling apart, there was home, peace, and comfort to be found in the very basics. That they weren’t powerless, that there was a section of their world they could actually control.
          Strength began pouring back into him at a few sips of the tea. It was too sweet for his taste, and wasn’t his beloved Earl Grey, but it was a black tea and had the requisite amount of cream. Just a few sips were enough to calm him a little. Giles was sitting across from him, look concerned and serious. “Explain, Xander.”
          He rested the delicate china between his hands, cradling it, letting the warmth fill his fingers and deriving some measure of contentment from it. “I...keep having dreams.”
          Across from him, the unassuming Watcher was still staring at him with a concerned expression, waiting for the rest. He was still kind of scared of him, of the Ripper, the man that he knew Giles could become, even if everyone else had seemingly forgot, but after that night the playing ground had been evened somewhat, though how he couldn’t say. Maybe he’d stolen a little confidence, just enough that he wasn’t cowering in a corner from this look. It’s always the quiet ones. A memory that he couldn’t place.
          “Dreams of Captain Xan. They’re...confusing. Dying, torture, saving the world. And-” He stopped himself before he could speak, realizing that he would have said Will without a second thought. As if it was natural to hear the blond vampire’s name fall as Will from his lips. “-And Spike’s there. Usually. Only usually he’s in a suit and filing stuff. I...”
          He shook his head. “Captain Xan is so old. I’m not sure how old, but he’s ancient. He’s like a Guardian of Oa. He’s just been around for forever. There were so many memories in his head, and I...I’m wondering whether they’re spilling over into my dreams, just because I couldn’t process them before.” Another deep breath. “I...I flirted with everyone, but I kissed Spike. Which is majorly oogy. And I need to understand. I need to know why. I need to understand why the dreams won’t go away, why he’s there. What’s so special about him.”
          “Xander, is Captain Xan part of you still?” This question was important. If it hadn’t been, Giles would have been cleaning his glasses, trying to hide away from this. But it was too important to hide from. As it was, the librarian leaned forward, fixing him with a steady gaze.
          “No, but I...the aftermath. It’s like the hyena thing. I still remember everything and I...I just want it to go away. To go back to being normal.”
          His head went into his hands. “Other me had a crush and I’m trying to figure out exactly how doomed it was.”